Hazard
by Titan of Saturn
Summary: A CSI crossover. Don't knock it. Sano finds himself in a tricky situation in Las Vagas, before running amuck with the local forensics department. But something that sucks Ki is on his tail, and he is going to need all the help he can get.
1. Chance

Hazard- _noun_ (1) Game of chance played with two dice. (2) A source of danger.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Rurouni Kenshin_ or _CSI:_ _Crime Scene Investigation_. This is written only for fun, and I am gaining no profit.

* * *

_Shit! Shit, shit, shit!_ Sanosuke Sagara found himself pounding down the back alleyways of Las Vegas, unable to come up with a more articulate curse. The rubber soles of his sneakers burned as he skidded around another corner, trying to put as much distance between him and what was behind him.

_Fear- danger- the horrible pull of his _Ki_ from his very being-_ _oh, no._ But it was true. He'd been terrified, like he hadn't been since Poland, and he'd reached out to a long unused connection. _A brush of fur, an animalistic snarl…_

He'd called Saitou. _Shit! K'so! Shit!_ Lightning brushed across his skin, and Sano decided that now was not the time to be worrying over whether Saitou had heard him or not. Pushing burning lungs to their limit, Sanosuke cursed the concrete walls of the city. Where was running water when you needed it?

Then again, not all those _Ki_ sensitive were of the supernatural. Aoshi had proven that, and Karou, and various others he had known. Just because the art had died didn't mean it was forgotten. This was very bad for him. Trying to run, breathe, find his way _and_ wrestle his _Ki_ into shadows was also very bad for him. His health specifically, because he _couldn't do it!_

Rounding another corner Sanosuke plowed right into open air and lamplight. A quick glance found his sense of direction just a horrible as usual; with one glaring exception. Down the street and to the left was an apartment building that _reeked_ of modern magicks. He could hide there, lay low, and relearn how to conceal his _Ki_. And no one would be sought out for the transgression of harboring prey, because it was a Wicca building. Demon or no, none of malign intent would _dare_ enter there.

Grin firmly fixed on his face, Sanosuke made his way to safety.

* * *

Hajime Saitou was not a pleasant man as a rule. Everyone in his department knew this. So when he came to work the next morning, irritable, snappy, and distinctly jumpy, no one had really thought twice about it. He was _Hajime Saitou_ after all. 

That attitude had changed when he had gone into the Captains office and requested down-time. Saitou _never_ asked for down-time. Then again, he'd had a run of bad luck recently, ever since he'd gotten that Merccuchi as a partner. The Captain had been understandably startled when his most rock solid officer had asked for time off. But he'd granted it on the bases that everybody needed time off, and that if Saitou was asking, he really needed it.

This all led up to Saitou standing in the airport, smoking. He'd been woken at two o'clock this morning by a burning fire of _Ki_ pulling at _Ki_, and the terrified cry of a pup in danger echoing in his head. _Sanosuke._ It had been decades since he'd heard from the ruffian, and whatever had pushed Sano to calling on him, consciously or not, was a definite problem.

_Trust the bird-head to find it._ Saitou mused darkly, pulling extra hard on his cigarette. He could admit to himself, if no one else, that he was worried. So he'd gone to work this morning in a particularly foul mood, playing it up as much as he could without being suspicious. The Captain had been quick to give him the absurdly large amount of time-off he'd asked for. And then he'd ditched that idiot kid Merccuchi and gone strait for the airport, determined to make the flight he'd booked that morning.

He was early, and he found the time gave him more room to think. Better here than in the air. Wolf demons were earth connected, as most were, and flying was never pleasant for him. He wanted to get to the cub's aid as fast as possible, so with a determined air Hajime headed east.

* * *

Rachael Downing had started that day like any other. She'd gotten up at six, eaten breakfast, cursed her most recent ex, and decided to do her laundry. She'd then gathered her clothes and some quarters, and made her way to the basement. There her day became a little strange. A tall muscled brunette was sprawled out sleeping on the dryers. Hesitant, Rachel inched closer. Something tingled across her skin, and then the man's eyes snapped open. 

He _snarled_. But then Rachel blinked, and he was perfectly normal. Light brown eyes watched her, and the young face looked pained. Concerned, Rachel reached forward.

"Hey, are you all right?" Her fingers, which had just gotten in close proximity of the guy, sizzled as energy lashed out warningly. Surprised and scared, Rachel jumped backwards and dropped her laundry, hands coming up automatically to protect her chest and forehead.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm not gonna hurt ya." The man, looking to be a twenty something, sat up with a pained hiss. Fascinated, Rachel lowered her arms. He was… how did that happen?

"Like you could." She snapped back, before her curiosity got the better of her. "How did you _do_ that?"

"Do what?"

"That!" Rachel gestured vaguely to his shredded aura. "What did that?"

"Oh, this? I think he was some kind of demon." The woman blinked at his bold statement, before smiling.

"Well, anyone in this era who can say that truthfully is either nuts or worth my time, and I think it's the second in your case. Why don't you come up to my apartment and I'll fix you right up."

"Really? That would be great."


	2. Life

Hazard- _noun_ (1) Game of chance played with two dice. (2) A source of danger.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Rurouni Kenshin_ or _CSI:_ _Crime Scene Investigation_. This is written only for fun, and I am gaining no profit.

* * *

"That's it, come on, you got it. One more step, there. We'll rest on the landing a bit. That's more for me than you, though, so don't worry. I'd have taken you up in the elevator, but I don't think you'd have liked that. But that's okay; I only live on the second floor. We'll be fine. Alright, here we go. Step up, that's right. Just this part left to go. We've almost made it. Here we go. Hold on a sec while I dig out my keys, I hate the pockets in these sweats, too big. Okay, I got it; let's get you to the couch."

The six foot something of slack muscle leaning heavily on her shoulder let out a pained snarl at her threshold, and recoiled. Rachel pulled back with him, stuttering out a worried apology.

"Sorry, sorry! I'm really not that used to such sensitive and injured people going through my barriers. Hold on a sec and I'll pull them down." Rachel concentrated on seeing the glow of a red wall stretching across her doorway, then concentrated on seeing the red dim and then fade completely. She steered the guy slowly through it, kicking the door closed behind her, and then pushed him gently down onto the couch. He groaned.

She had a large mug of water in the microwave before she knew exactly what she was doing. Opening the cupboard above and to the left of the sink, Rachel knew her instinctive actions hadn't led her astray. Quickly she plucked the Rosemary tea box and opened it, preparing to remove a teabag.

_But wait, wouldn't Chamomile be better?_ And the guy (who she realized had yet to give his name) seemed to be the type to like the more traditional Green or Black tea, not that he seemed to be the type who liked tea at all. _Or Lemon Saffron, or Apple even, might be better._ Why did she have to like tea so much? There were too many choices. And it wasn't even an herbal Wiccan thing; half the witches she knew hated the stuff. So which one? _Go with your first instinct;_ Rachel reminded herself, _always trust your subconscious. It knows more than you do._

When the microwave beeped (entirely too loud, in her opinion. Rachel decided then she was getting a new one, hopefully with a less annoying chime.) Rachel pulled the steaming mug out and dropped a Rosemary teabag into it. _Rosemary for cleansing,_ she recalled as she watched the dark flavor spread across the clear water. _A good choice. Thank you, Spirit, for guiding me in my decisions._ Rachel sent the silent thanks out into the universe.

When the water had become good and dark, rich with Rosemary, Rachel tested the temperature with her pinky finger. She pulled it out quickly. _Hot!_ She yelped in her mind as the finger made the plunge into her mouth.

A minute later she was handing the mug over to an exhausted looking young man, having added no milk, honey, or sugar to it. It was more potent that way, so he'd have to deal with the taste.

"It's hot." She told him, and he held it between his hands for a while, probably letting the warmth seep into fingers cold from shock. Eventually she stood up, once she had seen he'd taken a sip and not refused it. Rachel then busied herself moving her coffee table to the corner of her cramped living room, taking the rug that went underneath with it. The stand next to the couch went next, and then she was in her bedroom pulling together the supplies she would need.

From her bedside table she grabbed a pack of black chalk, two items off her alter (her necklace and a piece of thick, blue tinted sea glass) and a small bottle of salt. In the living room she drew a circle deosil around the couch, starting at the north and connecting back at that point.

"May the power of the Lord and the Lady fill this circle, and bring forth positive energy." Next she followed the same motion, except this time with the salt. When she came around once again to the north, she spoke her next blessing.

"May the power of the Spirit fill this circle, and banish negative energies." This time she circled with her right index finger following the path of her circle. She spoke as she walked, seeing in her mind golden energy springing up like a hedge beneath her finger.

"Through the Sacred Self I empower this circle, in the name of the Lord and the Lady." As she reached her starting point for the third time, she bent over and smacked her hand on the ground, reciting:

"As above, so below. This circle is sealed!" Then, for good measure, she traced an equal-armed cross in the air with her left hand. She was taking every precaution possible in the span of time she'd allotted herself, the circle she'd just casted was unnecessarily complex for what she planned to do. But she did not want the thing that did this to come for her, too. Especially if it was a demon, as the man said. She'd heard stories about demons form her grandfather for as long as she could remember.

Then with a sigh, Rachel Downing settled herself on her knees next to the sprawled out form of the guy whose name she still did not know, and began to meditate.

* * *

The flight had been thankfully short. Nevada wasn't that far from California, and all in all it only took him about four hours, including the absurd new airport security measures. That was another reason not to fly. In a post-9/11 society, flying was practically a hazard to your sanity.

And he really, really should have known. Sanosuke, a habitual gambler, was bound to be found in Las Vegas. That he had known. What he should have guessed was that it wouldn't be quite so easy to find him as it had been in the old days. The barrier Sanosuke maintained between their connection, while weakened, had gone back up after the initial call. And Saitou, who knew nothing of his condition, didn't dare risk the damage it might cause to tear it down.

But that did not mean the idiot couldn't be traced through other means. He was a cop, after all.

Sanosuke's apartment was predictably messy, clothes strew over every surface. It was only a three room place (if you could call those rooms) made up of a bedroom (which was were the front door lead) a bathroom (absolutely tiny, but surprisingly clean) and the kitchenette, which was only separated from the bedroom by the change from carpeting to tile. The pup's sent covered every surface, but he caught a whiff of old perfume and the faint smell of sex. Not totally the adrenaline junkie he remembered, but not that far removed. The kid was in Vegas, after all.

From his apartment, Saitou spent half the day following Sanosuke's energy trails, trying to find the most recent. It was about three o'clock when he found it.

Saitou stood at the mouth of the alley, exposed skin tingling with electric numbness, and wondered just what the idiot pup had gotten himself into. He could practically see the marks of clashing _Ki_ splayed all around him. What could _do_ this? Something wriggled in the back of his head, like a memory he didn't recall coming forward. Saitou paused in his thoughts, waiting, but no revelation occurred.

He then spent the next half an hour following Sanosuke's frantic – and fading – _Ki_ trail in zigzagging and panicked pattern across the back alleyways of Las Vegas. But then the trail vanished into nothing. For a moment Saitou's severe face pulled a hard frown, but then he smirked.

Underneath his building frustration and worry, the demon found it in himself to be proud of the pup. On the run, panicked, and obviously injured on a spiritual level, Sanosuke had still managed to grasp his _Ki_ and bury it from all sensing. The creacher that had done this had left no trail for him to follow, but he was sure Sanosuke lost it here. The ahou was safe for the moment.

It was just then that Saitou felt a massive headache bloom behind his eyes, and before he had time to brace himself, his senses exploded.

* * *

A/N: So you know, deosil mean clockwise in Witchie lingo. And I'm sorry to those of you who are seriously offended by that kind of thing, but this is a story of the supernatural, and Wicca is a religion that is very in tuned with that kind of thing. There were probably others I could have used, I'm sure, but this one I know the most about. If the Wiccan religion offends you, then you should not read this story. If you have not turned back by now, and am reading this, I'd like to ask that if you flame me please be PC. There is nothing I can't stand more than people who hate something without even knowing what it is.

That said, to those of you who don't care about that, but do care about the topic of Rachel as a Mary-Sue or OC or whatever, I'll be upfront with you. Yes, she will be a main character in this story. Yes, she will be using her magic to occasionally save the day. No, she is not the main hero (who is Sano, obviously) and with that I'd like to add that I hope to give all CSI characters close to equal time in the spotlight. I know they aren't here yet, but they're coming, I promise. This chapter just got a little out of hand length wise, so that why I couldn't fit them in like I'd planned. And _no_ Rachel will not be paired with any character.

And yes, I know I kinda overdid the witch thing in this chapter, but I really have to set that up for the story. Please review with comments and criticism. Thank you.

TS


	3. Trouble

Hazard- _noun_ (1) Game of chance played with two dice. (2) A source of danger.

Disclaimer: I do not own _Rurouni Kenshin_ or _CSI:_ _Crime Scene Investigation_. This is written only for fun, and I am gaining no profit.

---

Rachel had always prided herself in her unique ability to manipulate chakra – her own and that of others. Her grandfather had often praised the gift. She trusted that her grandfather knew what he was saying when he told her of the Craft, of her own ability and control, of the things in the world that were real even when others did not believe.

It was as a teenager, arrogant and selfish and needing to break away, that she first demanded proof. Her grandfather could not give it to her. And so she walked a road of disbelief and ignorance, wading through the masses of stupidity with her own, and lost herself.

Then her grandfather died. And she believed again.

Not because he was killed by a demon, no. A simple car crash was all it took to tear from her the only living family member she had left. What returned her to Wicca was much more simple and complex.

_Faith._

Rachel needed to trust that the God and Goddess would see her grandfather safely to Summerland, and Karma would reward him generously in his next life. And so she found herself again. And what hurt most of all, aside from the fact that her grandfather was not here to see her develop as a witch, was that it had taken such a momentous act for the Spirit to guide her back to her true path.

That was how the Spirit worked. Rachel cursed her stupidity.

Something fluttered in her stomach.

Slowly, easing herself gently out of meditation, Rachel opened her eyes. She recognized that feeling easily; had learned to trust it over the years, and through the many times that she had ignored it to a disastrous end. As cliché as it seemed, Rachel trusted her gut instinct. And as always, it warned her that something big was about to happen.

Someone knocked on the door.

---

Detective Vega lifted his fist a second time, intending to knock louder, when he heard a voice through the door. Downing sounded tired, but it was nearly two in the afternoon. Maybe she was up late last night doing something she shouldn't have been.

Not that he could see the iron honest Black Jack dealer as the vicious criminal the evidence showed her as. And even though the evidence was never wrong (a phrase he'd heard the Captain and numerous night shift CSI's utter) sometimes the people who interpreted them were. But his instincts didn't get search warrants, the evidence did, and Gill Grissom had quite the collection of that, all pointing at the woman behind this door.

_Once is a lead. Twice could be a coincidence. Three times is a suspect._

Grissom was well known for his witty phrases, bad puns, and sometimes eccentric habits. That and he quoted just about everything. But still, Vega had long ago realized the man deserved respect as a CSI. It just so happened he thought Grissom was wrong on this occasion.

Thankfully, Catherine seemed to agree with him. Maybe he wasn't losing his touch after all.

Vega knocked again, this time harder, and began to become annoyed.

"I'd tell you to let yourself right in, except I think the door is locked. You can try anyway, but if it is you're going to have to wait a couple of minutes." Vega almost laughed, probably would have if the situation had been any different. Downing's brutal honesty and blunt speech pattern was refreshing. He wasn't used to dealing with that sort of thing in his line of work.

Catherine tested the doorknob, and found it turned easily. She pushed the door open and peered inside with curiosity.

"Las Vegas Crime Lab." She called. "We have a warrant." The CSI took several steps into the apartment, and then stopped. Gil came up behind her, and he saw the man's brow furrow in confusion. Grissom then started walking slowly around the still frozen Catherine in a way that made the scene before him even stranger. Vega knew that prowl to be one where Grissom had just found something _very_ interesting, most of the time evidence that broke the case. If he could see the man's eyes, they would be gleaming. Then Catherine shifted, and Vega could see what had caught their attention.

_Whoa. You don't see that every day._

He sure as hell didn't, anyway. It looked like some kind of cult ritual, only minus the cloaked weirdoes and chanting. And it had one very unashamed Rachel in the middle, doing God knew what to some guy who looked vaguely Asian and was out like a light. _Okay, I have no idea what this is, but it doesn't look good._

"You're a witch." It was sated mildly, Grissom's voice held no accusation. Still, Downing stiffened slightly from where she was kneeling over the young man, one hand resting lightly on his forehead, the other just under his breast.

"Yes." Grissom opened him mouth to speak, but before he could there was a screech. The large living room window shattered inward as a figure exploded into the room. Downing screamed, Grissom ducked, and Catherine froze halfway into drawing her gun, eyes fixed on the figure with a mixture of horror and revulsion that made no sense to Vega, but he was too occupied drawing his own gun and shouting:

"Freeze!" as if that ever did anything. The person lunged at Downing and the still unconscious man, only bounce back as if he'd hit a wall. He paused, only for a moment, before going strait at Catherine. Vega moved before he could think.

It cost him, but later he would decide it was worth every ounce of blood.

---

I apologise about my slightly angry and defensive AN last chapter, but I'm a little sensitive on the issue of Wicca. Someone asked me if I was one. My answer is yes, though I must admit I'm not much of a practicing one. For those who don't know that term, it's like being Christian but not going to church often. And I've had a couple of very bad reactions to my choice in beliefs, as well as some surprisingly open ones. So sorry for jumping down your throats prematurly. I didn't get a single flame last chapter. Thank you all.

I actually finished this last week, but Fanfiction .net was freaking out on me, so I waited before posting. Sorry to leave you hanging, but it was natural. Here's the CSI's finally, Catherine's POV up next. Things are really gonna start to heat up.

TS


End file.
